


Numb

by SprinkledWords



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SprinkledWords/pseuds/SprinkledWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take the worst situation.<br/>Make a worse situation.</p><p> </p><p>Post S3 Ep10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Numb

**Author's Note:**

> After Delphine.

Cosima gripped the sliding door of Felix's loft and pulled it open. Hard. Harder than she needed to. She always did it this way nowadays. It had become a little ritual she had. Like a kind of test. Yanking the door as hard as she could to see how much force her shoulder could take. Or was it to see if she could rip it out of the socket? Either way, tonight's was a good one. She almost felt something in that ball and socket come apart. Almost.

 

 

 

 

 

She had been staying out later and later; at work, putting in weird shifts of her own creation. She was either there or at some trashy bar where she could anonymously sink into the kind of oblivion only hard liquor and blackouts could provide. Solitude was her chosen companion these days.  

 

Some nights were different. The ones when she let someone follow her home. They'd follow her home and for the time they spent locked together, writhing together, sweating together; she'd pretend she'd found somebody to mend her. Some body to mend hers. Wishing for distant embraces. But mostly it just appalled. Scratching hands round her waist, every touch screaming that this wasn't the same. That nothing ever would be the same. She could never feel the same.

 

The blackout nights were better. The ones where they could meet again. Sometimes oblivion bought her what she wanted. Their last moments together, standing in the cold. Feeling it creep up from the frosty ground and claw her feet as they stood. Too long outside in that cold. Not long enough. To feel the cold of that night again, taste the mouth that kissed her. Look into those eyes. Those eyes that spoke volumes without words; "all my love." She wanted to read that last look again. To study it properly. Was it goodbye? Did she know? One last plea that she didn't act on? Or was it just the love in those eyes that she always saw from her, or saw all those times but chose not to see? It's hard to see clearly when your own eyes are clouded with mistrust. This blackout always ended the same; the cold that had started at her feet, stealthily moved it's clawed hands up her body and now gripped tightly around her heart. The same cold grip she felt there that night as the car left her in its wake. Left her to question and regret.

 

Sometimes even the blackout nights offered no comfort. The face in front of hers was not the one she wanted. It was the one she'd chosen to replace her with. Their last conversation too. Last fight. Raised voices. "You can't live your life like this" "You're making yourself ill."

 

"Come on then, healer. Make me better!" 

 

"I can't if you don't let me in. Tell me how you feel." 

 

"How do I feel? I don't feel. I can't ever allow that. Not ever again. Do you know what would happen if I let myself feel all that I do about what happened?"

 

"Do you?"

 

"There is this chasm that is waiting. Waiting for the moment when I give in to the blackness that follows me around like some relentless predatory spectre. If I let it push me in there, I don't think I'll ever be able to claw my way back out. Numb is better. Safer. I can hide."

 

"You don't have to do any of this on your own. Stop hiding from all of us. The ones who want to help you." 

 

She pulled the door closed gently then. It was the last time she ever did it that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Completely inspired by the song Numbers by Daughter.


End file.
